


Love Thyself, Destroy Thyself

by voxDei



Series: This Was a Bad Idea to Start With and it's Only Gotten Worse [2]
Category: Warframe
Genre: Body Horror, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, M/M, PWP, Porn Without Plot, Selfcest, Sex Pollen, noncon, recurring dreamworld encounters with your alternate (future?) self, uncomfortable blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 02:11:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14823228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxDei/pseuds/voxDei
Summary: “Why is this my lot,” he murmurs after a time. “Can I not be rid of this place, this dream…”His double tsks, leaning its head against his. “Am I really so horrible? Do you not enjoy what we do?”Alad shudders faintly. “I… you know why I hate this, you’re, you’reme. I don’t want this…”A hand strokes down his back, horribly comforting. “But you do… if only because I do, and we are the same.”





	Love Thyself, Destroy Thyself

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly cannot explain why, after two years almost on the dot, I felt the need to write an even grosser sequel to that oneshot fic, but here you go. It's nasty, it's fun, our boy has Issues and it shows, enjoy. And mind the tags!

Alad walks for an age before he realizes he’s walking, and then walks for an age more before he realizes he shouldn’t be. Same corridors, same standard architecture as anywhere else in the gas cloud city, but the sky outside is… static. Not the rolling storms he’s used to, the clouds seem almost frozen. Unmoving. It makes him frown, pausing in his stride, and in the sudden silence he becomes aware of a… noise. Background sound amplified in the unnatural emptiness of a cloud tower devoid of storm chaos or machinery dins. He cocks his head, frowning.

Unwisely, he follows it. Like sobbing, or strain, an almost _moist_ sound, and he recoils when he finds its source.

His double, festooned as it was last time in Infested growths and mutations, sitting slumped against the wall, ruined face screwed up in frustration with one hand down its trousers, frantically working itself. As he watches it hisses out another agonized sound, hips trembling fitfully, and he hastily ducks back around the corner before it can open its horribly familiar eyes and see him. 

The _fiend_. It must still be lurking in his subconscious, a mockery put there by, by stress and overwork, yes, that’s it. There can be no other explanation for this.

This dreamscape seems infinite; perhaps he can simply… evade the creature. He takes a step back the way he came, but freezes at the voice that calls for him. “Alad! Alad, old friend, I can smell you! Come out, come out, please… chasing you would be so tiresome.”

_Damn._

Fixing his features in a look of irritation and disgust that he does not need to try hard to achieve, Alad stalks back around the corner and glowers at his Infested double. The lecherous grin it wears does not belong on his face, and he narrows his eyes as it beckons him closer, but he doesn’t trust it not to spring after him, and so walks stiffly towards it.

“ _What_. Are you doing.”

“Ahh, this does look embarrassing doesn’t it.” His double rests its head against the wall, eyes hooded. “I have suffered, as of late, plagued by, hn, _desire_. Release has evaded me…”

Its eyes narrow, mouth twisting as if in contemplation, stretching the luminescent marks on its face. Then its face changes, splitting into a delighted, open smile that makes Alad jerk a step back.

“Ach, I should have guessed! I knew it could only be _me_ that satisfied me, but not, heh, myself.” His double grins wickedly, eyes glinting with greed. “Come, come, and help me do the same. I cannot _bear_ it, please, help me help you… help me, heh.”

Alad recoils, lip curled in disgust, but he’s too slow, his double lunges up with speed he hadn’t anticipated and seizes the front of his robes, dragging him down onto his knees and forcing a startled yelp from him. He scrambles back, trying to find his feet, but his double is stronger than he is, dragging them together and mashing its mouth against Alad’s.

His reaction is downright _shameful_ ; his lips part almost instantly, sucking in a gasp before his mouth is filled with slimy tongue, and he presses _into_ , not _away from_ , the invasion. His double chuckles, one hand curling around the back of his neck as it deepens the obscene kiss, making Alad’s lips burn with contact.

He blanches, letting out a sound uncomfortably close to a moan, which makes his double smile and coil its tongue, breaking the kiss with a lewd sucking motion on Alad’s lower lip.

He jerks back, gasping for air and flushed ugly red. “Why— why are you _like this_ , why am _I_ —”

The Infestation cackles, almost manic. “This flesh has its needs, my friend, just as your pretty human skin does… the Infestation is just… less subtle about it. _You_ did this, or rather I… _we_ chose this transformation, Alad V the both of us, for the good of the Origin System. It is a boon, can’t you see! Unity for all, Corpus, Grinner… Tenno.”

Alad shakes his head, trying to clear it. “Then go enact your perversions on them, leave me out of it! Coax a Warframe into your bed if you have to!”

His double tsks, stroking its fingertips down his unmarred face. “Ahh, but they say that ones own self is ones best lover. _Your_ touch is what I need, old friend, no other will suffice…” Its thumb, crooked and fused with the latex of its glove, slips into Alad’s mouth, making him grimace. He tries to speak, to object, but it pins his tongue, looking almost contemplative.

“Yes… your mouth is what I want, now.”

He jerks back, eyes wild, choking out a _“No,”_ but his double is already pulling its cock free and _oh, Profit, no_. It’s swollen almost purple, large and horrid and obscene and some terrible, traitorous part of himself does a greedy little flip, unwanted heat gathering in his guts.

“Come now,” his twisted reflection coos, legs splayed and one hand fisted in the front of Alad’s coat, “Give me your mouth and I’ll give you mine, fair’s fair…”

He’s not given the time to think about this, dragged face-first into the offending organ. He gasps and gets a lungful of the creature’s musk, sickly sweet and heady, and tries to stifle a groan. “No,” he grunts, but the hand is on the back of his head now, and he hasn’t the leverage to fight it, his back bent and legs twisted under him. The bulbous head of his double’s cock fills his vision, stiff-looking nodules visible under the crest of the glans, and then it’s pushing past his lips and into his mouth and oh, _oh…_

_“Ohhh,”_ the Infestation croons above him, shameless and guttural. “Nng, yes, yes that’s it…” It fills Alad’s mouth, stretches his jaw past the point of discomfort, and he can feel those little nodules at the head scraping the back of his throat, threatening to vomit. He chokes, coughs, sucks in desperate breaths through his nose, eyes watering dangerously. His tongue writhes against the obstruction to his breathing, but that only makes his double moan and thrust itself further in. Alad’s nose is pressed nearly flush with his double’s pelvis, and he feels the wriggle of tiny tendrils dotting the skin there, ringing the base of the creature’s cock.

His hands scrabble at the floor, at his double’s hips, and, mercifully, the Infestation lets him pull back halfway and gulp a few grateful breaths. It coos at him, almost purring with perverse enjoyment, and then rams itself back down his abused throat hard enough that he spasms around it. His double shudders, moans, arches its back and rolls its hips and fucks him, fucks his mouth like any other waiting hole. It pants horribly, mouth open and grotesque tongue hanging slack, fingers digging into Alad’s skull.

And shamefully, treacherously, Alad’s own body responds, throbbing heat deep in his groin and a rippling, sucking motion around his double’s cock that he swears isn’t voluntary. He groans, muffled, head swimming.

“Beautiful, beautiful,” the Infestation moans above him, head tipped back in pleasure. “You’re doing wonderfully, old friend, ohh, I’ve been chasing this since we last met… do you see the way we fit together, the both of us one and the same… and you will join me soon enough, yes, in your own time…” He thrusts again, a feeble gesture in this position, with little leverage, but the way he keeps Alad’s head pinned to its crotch magnifies it tenfold. “Yes, _yes_ … swallow it, my dear, I want, I want to _see you—_ ”

It comes with a harsh cry, bestial, spilling itself down Alad’s throat with a sickening throb. He chokes again, mouth filled with acrid sweetness, feeling the thickness of his double’s member pulse against his tongue. He swallows, he’s got no choice, trying to clear some space to breathe— and trying to ignore the way his own cock twitches, throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

He tries to pull back again and finds that he can, finally, the creature’s spent organ sliding free of his lips, and he coughs fully, filling his lungs for what feels like the first time in an eternity. He stays like that, hunched over on his knees just focusing on breathing, until something touches his face and he jerks back.

His double caresses his cheek, taking in his face smeared with drool and tears with a look like rapture. Lip curling, Alad swats at the hand, snarling hoarsely, “Get away from me,” but his reflection only laughs.

“Oh but I owe you, old friend, did I not say? You have done me a service and now I must pay for it, is that not the way of us Corpus bastards?” He licks his lips, leaning in to brush them against Alad’s abused, swollen ones. It is a chaste kiss, comparatively speaking; just a slow tease of lips parting, making Alad’s gut coil with want.

“Stand up, my dear,” the Infestation whispers, “let me repay you.”

The two impulses war in his mind, the deep disgust driving him to _get away_ from this monster and in all likelihood never sleep again, and the hideous need this creature has awoken in him, the primitive urge to rut and chase that shameful satisfaction. They distract him long enough that he doesn’t realize when he pushes himself to standing, only notices when his double undoes the clasp of his trousers and makes him gasp with sudden touch.

He feels heavy, swollen with need, and the caress of this thing is electrifying, making him reach for the wall in front of him for balance. The Infestation appraises him, stroking from taint to tip and leaving him shuddering and mute.

“Oh,” his double coos, stroking down Alad’s milk-pale thigh, “this is going to be… _delightful…_ ”

It takes him whole, lips fastening around the root of his cock and Alad _keens_ , nearly stumbles and scrabbles at the wall to stay standing. He is not, he has not exactly _compared_ , but he knows he is not, not _insignificant_ in size, especially if his double’s genitalia are anything to go by, but this creature swallows around him with ease, the sweet pressure and heat of its mouth driving him to cry out in pleasure.

It’s so intense it almost hurts, and when the Infestation’s tongue wraps around his cock like an eel he finds himself glad, very glad indeed that they are alone in this nightmare, that there is no one to hear him fall apart.

His double’s mismatched hands wrap around his hips, knead at his less-than-generous ass, driving him further down the thing’s hot throat, and Alad bites his already bruised lips until they bleed. His hips thrust, stuttering and impulsive, and he moans at the sweet friction.

He’s got no stamina, not after being facefucked worked him up to such vulnerability, and he doesn’t even realize he’s pleading until his release rips from him in a litany of “Please, please, yes, sweet Profit yes, please yes, _yes—_ ”

His double’s mouth remains suckered around him until the aftershocks fade, leaving him whimpering and spent and falling to his knees the instant he’s released. He lands on top of his double, legs folded under him like so much synthetic pasta, and he just twitches when the Infestation’s arms come to wrap around him. He just lays into his double, shivering and mute and utterly wreaked.

“Why is this my lot,” he murmurs after a time. “Can I not be rid of this place, this dream…”

His double tsks, leaning its head against his. “Am I really so horrible? Do you not enjoy what we do?”

Alad shudders faintly. “I… you _know_ why I hate this, you’re, you’re _me_. I don’t want this…”

A hand strokes down his back, horribly comforting. “But you do… if only because _I_ do, and we are the same.”

Alad shakes his head, pulling back to look his double in the eye. “We’re not! This, this perversion isn’t me, it is not mine! It’s the Infestation t-twisting us, making you—” He cuts off, frustrated and feeble. “It’s _shameful_.”

His reflection strokes his grimy face, almost pitying. “You may have hated me, old friend, but I’ve never hated you.”

Alad grits his teeth. “How did this even happen to you… can… can I avoid it happening to me?”

His double smiles, that rapturous look again. “Oh, don’t be afraid… we _chose_ this, don’t forget. Zanuka fails, I don’t mind telling you. Zanuka fails and the Corpus Board abandons us — but it is a boon! Without the Board hovering over our shoulder, we can… advance, yes. Explore new avenues! The Technocyte Virus is a trisky master… but you will find its desires align quite well with your own.”

Privately, Alad thinks that seems like a case of the peg being shaped to fit the hole more than anything else, and then grimaces visibly at the imagery that analogy brings to mind.

The Infestation coos softly, one arm wrapped around his lower back. “Take your time, old friend… I am patient. I must be. My work is slow-growing, and the Tenno harry me even now.” Its lips brush Alad’s cheek, the unblemished mirror to its own ruined visage. “But even they will fall to me, sooner or later.”

Alad sighs, long through the nose, and leans back against his double for want of anything else to do. He can’t stand yet, and this creature’s already done its worst to him. 

He… he can feel it. A tiny wriggling part of him that sees this as, as _freedom_. As an opportunity to shed the trappings of decorum and civilization, to be… _monstrous_. 

He doesn’t want to let it. He doesn’t want to become this _thing_ under him, does not want to lose so much of his control. 

But that want is not going away. And he fears it growing stronger, fed by these nighttime trysts. 

He clings to his double, taking grudging comfort in its solidity. It coos at him, trying to be soothing and landing on creepy, but he hasn’t many other options, so he stays put. 

Slowly, slowly, he starts drifting. That’s how one leaves this place, he supposes distantly, sleep to enter, sleep to exit. Seems like it wants him gone, given how fast it’s pushing him towards unconsciousness.

The Infestation lets its arms drop once its past self has vanished, exhaling slowly and smiling. It’ll be back at its own work soon enough, the whispers at the back of its head sated and quiet for now. The hive demands such things of it, but it can provide. It will provide for them the System on a platter. And maybe they will let it keep this dreamland, this small piece of hedonism it craves.

Maybe.


End file.
